


The Royal Treatment

by dvs



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fake Marriage, M/M, Sam is more awesome than you realise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: T'Challa needs to pretend to be married. Sam happens to be standing conveniently close by.





	1. Chapter 1

“…the hell?” Sam muttered as he looked down at the firm grip around his arm.

Another hand was delicately removing his little plate of hors d'oeuvres from his grip, handing it to someone else. Sam followed the transfer of his plate to a familiar metal hand, scowling.

He looked to his side, to once again to ask what the hell was going on, but T’Challa had a heavy arm around Sam’s waist, and a very polite smile on his face, as he spoke to a rather stern woman.

“This is Sam Wilson,” T’Challa said. “He is a man my father would have approved of. You would not oppose someone my father would have accepted into this family. Surely.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but T’Challa had pulled him closer and even though his big old cat suit didn’t exactly hide much, somehow the play of muscle was more evident through his three piece suit, and _damn_ if it wasn’t a little distracting.

The stern lady was talking to T’Challa. “Your father often saw good where there was none. Trusted the wrong people. Made friends who would be better as enemies. You will forgive me, if I am not agreed with what you _think_ would be his judgement. If he would accept this _commoner,_ then it would just another decision in a long line of ill-thought decisions.”

“Wow. Okay,” Sam said, stepping forward to respond.

T’Challa’s hand moved from Sam’s waist, and was suddenly on the back of his neck, which…kind of made him go all still. Sam looked at T’Challa and frowned, but T’Challa was looking at his aunt. “There is nothing common about a man who fights with courage and skill. A warrior who fights for good. My father could see the good in people, he would have seen that good in my choice. Thank you for coming today. My father would have appreciated this visit when he was alive and you were too busy being angry with him, but thank you all the same.”

T’Challa’s aunt left, still stern, but the anger close to the surface. Sam watched her, worrying. She spoke to at least half a dozen people on the way out, people who were looking shocked and talking to other people. Sam muttered to himself, “Danger, Will Robinson, danger.”

“Sam. Please, if I could speak to you privately,” T’Challa said, walking before Sam could even reply. He wanted to make a joke about if this was the beginning of their married life, he wasn’t having fun. But…Sam narrowed his eyes and looked to the side where Bucky was grinning and eating Sam’s hors d'oeuvres.

“I will hurt you so bad,” Sam said, on seeing him open his mouth, not denting Bucky’s grin in the slightest.

Sam shook his head and chased after T’Challa. It was hard starting a conversation with him. He looked dead serious and, Sam was only too human in thinking, _incredibly_ attractive today. Sam tried to track back to the moment where a man who could brood became a thing, because it really wasn’t a thing. But T’Challa…he really was like a panther poised to strike, always ready, always waiting perhaps. The _king_ of brooding, Sam thought, nodding to himself.

T’Challa opened a pair of double doors and ushered Sam into a room that made Avengers HQ look like they’d kind of been slumming it. When had this insanity even become his world?

“I am…very sorry,” T’Challa said, in that precise and clean way of his, every syllable buzzing and lyrical. “I should not have used you like that. But you were the…closest most acceptable choice.”

Sam blinked. “Thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

T’Challa stared at him and then broke out into a grin. It was…stunning. He looked about a decade younger, boyish and sweet. Sam felt his heart sink a little at the thought that somewhere under all that responsibility was a guy who didn’t get to smile enough.

T’Challa reached out and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “I am sorry you will have to take part in this ruse until I am able to find a solution. My intention was to create a firm relationship between myself and the Avengers, but…not like this.”

Sam laughed a little awkwardly. “Yeah. Bad idea. You haven’t even met my sister.”

”Your sister?” T’Challa asked with a raised brow, his hand still there, warm and firm. “She would be angry for your to marry a king?”

”Odds are the first thing she’d say to you is, ‘I don’t care if you’re a king, that’s my baby brother, and I’ve get questions,” Sam said, doing a poor imitation of his sister. It made T’Challa grin, which immediately meant it was THE BEST IMITATION _EVER_. “She’s really protective. It’s not personal.”

”It is how family should be,” T’Challa said with a soft smile. “And I would answer all her questions.”

Sam swallowed, mustering up a smile. “Yeah?”

T’Challa looked very serious. “But of course. She would be right to accept only the worthy for you.”

Sam laughed, waving a hand. “All right, all right. I’ll play along, you don’t have to flatter me.”

T’Challa nodded. “You are right. I do not have to flatter to you. I am a king. I do not have to flatter anyone.”

Sam stared. T’Challa looked rather pleased with himself, and it made heat flood Sam’s face. A quiet meow made him look away and he found a small black cat playing around his ankles. Sam watched T’Challa pick it up, stroking its little head.

“The answer is yes, by the way,” T’Challa told Sam. Sam frowned in question, and T’Challa explained, “Cats. I like them very much. They are intelligent and loyal creatures. Two qualities I have much time for.”

And then he strode out with feline finesse, leaving Sam standing there scrabbling for a question that T’Challa had answered, eyes widening when he remembered it.

When got back out, Bucky was watching everyone in his usual fashion: discreet paranoia. On seeing Sam, his mouth tilted into a smile. “Well?”

Looking over the balcony into the hall below, Sam could see the beginnings of murmuring and finger pointing. Someone snapped a picture of him and took a quick step back.

“You know that time we went to Nornheim with Thor? Tony accidentally got engaged when he thought he was just doing a tech trade?”

“Yeah?” Bucky said slowly, probably recalling every Avenger’s most specific humiliation during that escapade.

“It’s not like that,” Sam said shaking his head at Bucky _._ Bucky looked relieved and nodded. “But we _are_ fake engaged and I just found he totally does have a thing about cats.”

”I knew it,” Bucky said.

”Um, guys? Is there something you want to tell me?” Steve asked, jogging up a staircase, stopping before Bucky and Sam with deeply etched scowl across his forehead.

”T’Challa _does_ like cats,” Bucky told Steve.

Steve blinked at him and then looked at Sam. “Sam?”

”He’s right, he just told me,” Sam said nodding at Bucky, who nodded right back. Steve was staring at both of them now. Sam scowled, squishing a pretend cat as he said, “What? I saw the dude pick up a cat and do that thing people do when they’re totally into their cats.”

Steve squeezed the bridge of his nose and seemed to mutter something under his breath before he looked at Sam. “Everyone seems to think you’re engaged to T’Challa.”

Sam nodded. “Oh yeah. There’s that.”

”Is it…um…a code Elves?” Steve said, grimacing.

Sam and Bucky both held up there hands and said, “No no no. NO. No.”

”Oh. Okay, good,” Steve said with a nod. “So, nothing to worry about?”

”It’s just to get his aunt off his back. It’ll be old news in a day or two probably,” Sam said with a shrug.

"And if it's not?" Bucky asked, scowling at the action below the balcony. "Because His Majesty is looking real happy down there."

Sam joined Bucky at his side and looked down at the crowd. T'Challa was positively beaming as someone spoke to him, nodding at them. He looked up and caught Sam looking, giving him a look that was unnecessarily sultry.

Bucky being Bucky noticed the look and said, "You sure it's a ruse, pal? The King of Wakanda kinda looks like a smitten kitten."

"Come on, man." Sam laughed, shaking his head.

"Hey, if this goes the whole way, I'm going to be your best man, right?" Bucky said.

"Bucky, be serious," Steve said, looking grave. Sam nodded in thanks to Steve, his friend putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and telling Bucky, "I think we both know I'd be best man."

Sam narrowed his eyes at Steve. Captain America, being about five years old, clamped his mouth shut and looked away as Sam called both him and Bucky a pair of dicks.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was staring at his appetisers wondering how this had even happened. All he could remember was the latest alien asshole taking a shot at New York, and the Avengers hastily assembling after another round of falling out. Threat defeated, friendships mended, they all stood amidst the dust and rubble, looking pretty tattered themselves. Except...for him. T’Challa had stood up on the wreck of a crushed lorry, rearing up like a panther as he surveyed the damage. That suit did not look as if there was much suit to it, not really. It looked like a skin covering big lean muscles. Sam was injured and aching, and yet one look at the Black Panther sent a surge of heat through him so intense, he thought he could go another round with the bad guys…wait...where was he? Oh, that’s right. How the hell he’d ended up engaged to the king of Wakanda.

He’d been staring at T’Challa doing the impression of a living work of art, and Bucky seemed to appear out of nowhere, having some innate sense of inappropriate thoughts in other people’s heads.

“What are you staring at?” he had said in that dry tone of his, following Sam’s gaze to T’Challa. He pursed his mouth and nodded. “Want me to go put a good word in for you? T’Challa and I are kind of good buds now.”

Sam scowled at Bucky. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think the kids are call it being BFFs,” Bucky said, scarily serious.

Sam blinked at him, before shaking his head and giving up. “Could you go bleed on someone else’s shoes please?”

Bucky had given him the stink eye and limped off towards Steve and Nat, Sam slumping under the weight of his achy bones, almost jumping out of them when he turned to see T’Challa standing right there, mask in his hand, perfect face now on display. Sam snapped his head Bucky’s direction to see him grin and wave. The bastard had seen T’Challa approaching and said nothing. Sam turned towards T’Challa when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You fought well,” T’Challa told Sam, each world sounding like a neatly wrapped present, sharp-cornered and perfectly tied.

“You didn’t do so bad yourself,” Sam said, briefly wondering if the tell-tale thud of his heart was making it to the spot under T’Challa’s palm.

T’Challa sadly pulled away to nod and survey the ruins, looking like some Shakespearean actor about to deliver a heart-wrenching and beautifully spoken monologue. Sam wondered if he had just sighed. It was possible. He glanced back at Bucky who nodded approvingly like the stupid jerk that he was.

“We fought well, but there is much healing to be done,” T’Challa said. He sounded so disappointed with the world. Sam was pretty sure if the world knew how much T’Challa was disappointed, it may actually try to make it up to him.

Sam took a breath and reached out to put his hand on T’Challa’s shoulder, hoping T’Challa wouldn’t grab it with those catlike reflexes and power slam him onto the sidewalk. T’Challa just seemed to tense for a second, before relaxing and turning his head, smiling slightly.

“Why don’t we go join Cap?” Sam asked. “See what the plan is now.”

T’Challa smiled, and it seemed indulgent. “As you wish.”

“As you _wish_ ,” Bucky said later, looking ridiculously amused. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Sam said, sitting opposite Bucky, both of them on beds in the medical wing of Avengers HQ. Sam was being treated, whilst Bucky was there purely to satisfy his thirst for gossip. “What were you expecting? Pride and Prejudice?”

Bucky shrugged. “I was expecting that people work faster now than they did seventy years ago.”

“Dude,” Sam said. “We’re not _working_ on anything here.”

“In that case I won’t tell you what he said about you,” Bucky said.

“The hell you won’t,” Sam said, jutting his chin out at Bucky.

“He said, _your friend is courageous, and without any of your strength_ ,” Bucky said theatrically. “ _Or your brains_.”

“Shut up, man,” Sam said.

“Okay, I lied about that last part,” Bucky conceded. “He said something about having ideas for your wings. Or maybe your eyes. I can’t remember, I wasn’t really listening.”

Sam and Bucky bickered a little more until the night wore on and Bucky disappeared to brood on a rooftop, probably, and Sam dragged himself to his room in the Avengers complex. If he had the strength, he would have gone home to his apartment, but had he gone home, he would have missed T’Challa leaning against the wall in wait, in pants so black they seemed scientifically impossible, with a form fitting V-neck sweater that was a softer shade of impossible black, the deep brown skin of his chest visible. God damn it, Sam thought. He was tired, and tired made you stupid.

“You on Wakandan time?” Sam asked with smile, while something at the back of his brain shouted, ‘you blew it!’.

T’Challa pushed away from the wall with a grin, hands going behind his back, making the fabric of his sweater pull snug over his shoulders. “It has been quite an eventful day. I think sleep is not going to come so easy tonight.”

Sam nodded, feeling ridiculously exhausted. “Yeah. That’ll be all the adrenaline. You want to come in for a drink?”

“Only if I am not imposing,” T’Challa said.

“Not at all. Come on through,” Sam said, having thoughts about all the ways T’Challa could impose on him.

They settled down on the couch, the TV on before them, a bottle of beer each in hand, watching the news outlets making sense of alien invasion and what was still seen as vigilante help. Curiously, every piece of footage involving the Black Panther had him looking ferocious. Dangerous. Of course, Sam thought. Why would his heroics matter?

“You seem tense,” T’Challa said.

Sam smiled politely. “Probably need to pop a few painkillers.”

T’Challa sat quietly in thought for a moment, before nodding and saying, “I should go. Let you rest.”

Sam nodded back, smiling. “You going to try to sleep?”

“Of course.” T’Challa grinned, making something clench inside Sam, as he followed T’Challa to the door, disappointed at his leaving already. On the other side of the threshold to the room, T’Challa turned and said, “I meant to say, I have invited the Avengers to attend celebrations that will take place in two months. I hope you will be able to attend. My people are eager to see the new friends of Wakanda.”

“That usually means Captain America and Iron Man,” Sam said with a grin.

T’Challa’s eyes flicked down Sam’s body and back up. “I thinks perhaps you will find Wakanda to be unusual in that respect. Goodnight. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight,” Sam said. T’Challa smiled, turning and sauntering away. Sam had shut the door, finished the beer, and fallen asleep before he could even begin to fantasise about T’Challa’s impositions.

That was two months ago. Not to mention quite a few fantasies later.

Now Sam was sitting at a banquet table scowling at his plate of food wondering how he had gone from ogling T’Challa’s perfectly formed body, to being his fake fiancé.

“Birds and cats,” Bucky whispered next to him. “How does that even work? It’ll be like Looney Tunes. I tawt I taw a puddy tat.”

“ _Really_?” Sam looked at Bucky, who flashed him a grin that momentarily eluded to his real punk ass age. “This...is insane.”

“What are you talking about? He wants you to fake marry him to get his family off his back. It’s a tale as old as time. Talking of which, what would you do if he took you into a huge library and said it belongs to you now?” Sam frowned at him. “My catch-up list is mostly Disney films. Would you be all over him like a cheap suit?”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?” Sam asked. “Look at him. From what angle does he look like a beast? If he took me into library looking like that you’d never want to touch those books again.”

“You’re disgusting,” Bucky said, before adding, “it’s why I love you, man.”

“Pain in the ass,” Sam muttered, discreetly eyeing T’Challa amongst dignitaries at the end of the banquet hall.

Sam wasn’t the only one eye-balling people. Now that news had spread of his relationship to T’Challa, he was receiving quite a few glances too, some appreciative and some downright disappointed. He looked away when someone tugged sharply on his elbow. He turned around to see a girl far too small for the serious expression on her milky brown face, surrounded by a halo of soft brown curls.

“Hello,” Sam said. “Can I help you, Miss?” She grinned at him, one tooth missing in her sweet smile, as she handed him a small piece of paper. As soon as Sam took it, she giggled and sprinted away. Sam laughed and said, “Okay.”

Bucky tugged on his other elbow, making him turn back around. “What was that?”

“They’re called children,” Sam said dryly, opening the small piece of paper, reading _Meet me outside in the hall in ten minutes. We have much to discuss. T’Challa._ Sam gave Bucky a look, handing him the paper.

“Little disappointed it’s not in the library,” Bucky said. “Girl can only dream, I guess.”

Sam glanced up at T’Challa, and it seemed T’Challa had been waiting for him to look in his direction. He smiled and gave him a small slow nod. Sam nodded back, watching as T’Challa turned away and resumed discussion.

“What do you think he wants to talk about?” Sam said.

“Besides your beautiful brown eyes?” Bucky offered. “Why the charade, I guess. The guy’s a king. What he says goes.”

“You didn’t see his aunt. I have an aunt like her. She don’t care who’s king. She doesn’t like what someone has to say, she’s gonna whup their ass. She’s sixty-five and still scares the hell out of me,” Sam said with a grin.

Bucky laughed, and not far away Steve had noticed and was smiling, watching his friend getting better day by day. Sam looked past Bucky and shared a look with Steve, quiet, short, and knowing. Sam and Bucky fell back into their usual banter, competition without meaning, insults without any real heat, before Sam left the table and headed towards the hall, which was long and cavernous, made of marble, metal, and stone, fine fabrics, and ornate décor. It kind of made Asgard look like a bus station.

“Wakanda for N'Jadaka!”

The shout came from down the hall, and Sam only had a moment to see the man who was running towards him and being chased by members of the royal guard. Sam looked around for a weapon, anything that could be thrown, realising the man had something in his hand and he had been able to lob it in Sam’s direction. As he twisted to dodge, something hard slammed into his side, just as the projectile hit the floor and exploded. He fell hard on the marble floor, squashed under the body that had thrown him from harm’s way.

“Call the King!” someone shouted in the distance, whilst closer to him, someone was cupping his cheek, and asking, “Hey, pal. Come on, I barely touched you.”

Sam blinked until Bucky’s figure looked more than a shadow in the slow clearing mist. Sam grimaced, his hand going to his ribs, only because he couldn’t reach his aching head. “I always wanted to find out what it feels like to be crushed by a small elephant.”

“You all right?” Bucky asked, his hand moving to Sam’s shoulder, squeezing softly.

“Yeah. Great.” Sam nodded, before adding, “I’m going to pass out now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a continuation, but a bit I cleaned up and finished off instead of deleting. If I get inspired to write more of this, I certainly will and it will be posted here, but this is still a stand alone thing technically. _Teeeech_ nically.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam considered himself as stoic as the next stubborn soldier, but these days the next stubborn soldier happened to be Steve or Bucky, and they played a fairly good game of stoic, in fact a little too good for anyone to match. In which case, Sam squeezed his shut eyes even tighter, grimacing as he placed a hand over his ribs and groaned.

“Shit,” he cursed. “What the _hell_.”

“Take it easy, Birdman,” Bucky said from somewhere close by in his usual laconic tone. Sam opened one eye and then another, bringing into view Bucky who was sitting next to him on a very comfortable bed, in a very Wakandan bedroom, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. As laconic as he sounded, his gaze indicated a little concern, brow dented as he blinked at Sam. “You okay?”

“I’m pretty sure if you shook me right now I’d be rattling,” Sam said with a reflective nod.

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah, you definitely look like you’ve lost a few inches.”

“Shut up, man,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Bucky shrugged, feigning innocence and added, “What? I meant off your height. Have you always been this short?”

“Hey, the nineties called. Eddie Vedder wants his haircut back,” Sam said, sitting up stiffly. Bucky put a sturdy arm around his back until he settled.

“I’m sure I’d be very insulted if I knew who that probably handsome man was,” Bucky said. “That okay? You need a pillow or something?”

“It’s fine. You going to tell me what the hell happened back there?” Sam said as the doors opened.

He watched, listening to Steve tell someone, “After you, Ma’am.”

“I will remain here,” came the terse reply of one of the Dora Milaje.

“All right,” Steve said, striding in, having lost his blazer and tie, the top button of his shirt popped open. Steve looked at Sam. “How are you doing?”

“Bruised,” Sam said. “But I’ll survive. What’s going on out there?”

“Palace is on high alert. T’Challa says it’s not exactly a shock this happened, but it is a surprise. He’s got the royal guard sweeping the place. I offered up the help of the Avengers, but T’Challa…”

“What?” Sam said when Steve sighed.

“He thinks one of the reasons this might have happened is because the Avengers are here. I guess one of us getting blown up on Wakandan ground would look pretty bad.”

“Not if it was Banner,” Bucky said thoughtfully. “He’s a hard guy to blow up from what I’ve seen.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said. “That’s useful.”

Bucky smiled, shaking his head. Steve, as much as he tried to hide it, looked warmed by the smile on his friend’s face, but rolled his eyes in exasperation all the same.

“What can we do?” Sam asked. “There has to be something.”

“Yeah, you lie here and rest up, old man,” Bucky said.

“I know you did not just call me _old man._ What are you now, like ninety?” Sam asked.

“Popsicles don’t age,” Bucky said, throwing a hand in Steve’s direction. “Example.”

Sam frowned at Steve who shrugged and gave a sheepish nod. Sam shook his head, waving Bucky away. “I don’t even know why I bother.”

“Because, I have the inside track,” Bucky said.

“What, you know what’s going on?” Steve asked.

“Politics. There’s a small minority that think T’Challa shouldn’t be king. Every now and then some asshole comes along to shake things up so no one gets too comfortable around here,” Bucky said.

Steve looked at Sam, impressed and pleased. Sam frowned at Bucky. “How the hell do you know that?”

Bucky looked at his metal arm. “I had some time on my hands. Got to know the locals a little.”

Sam frowned. “Really?”

Bucky looked at him, his eyebrows, bobbing up and down suggestively. “Well, how else could I know?”

It was true that Bucky had spent a sufficient amount of time on Wakanda after waiting, and then going back and forth for improvements on his arm. It had given him an _unreasonable_ amount of time in the company of the king who had sworn to protect Bucky in the event that anyone would come for him. It didn’t mean whatever Bucky’s eyebrows were suggesting, not at all. What a stand up guy T’Challa was, Sam thought. Brave. Honourable. Smart. Hotter than ten burning suns on the brink of supernova-

“Sam? Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?” Steve asked, looking concerned. When Sam frowned, Steve explained, “You weren’t responding. I asked a question.”

“Sorry,” Sam said with a shake of his head. “I’m fine. Just...thinking.”

“About?” Bucky asked, looking innocent.

“Why are you still here, man? You’ve got to have something else to do right now?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I asked Bucky to keep an eye on you. Just in case,” Steve said.

Bucky smiled. “I was happy to help.”

“I am okay now,” Sam enunciated carefully. “And for what it’s worth, we should be helping the royal guard.”

“Hey, I agree. But T’Challa’s adamant that, um,” Steve stopped to share a look with Bucky before looking back at Sam, “you don’t come to any harm.”

“The rest of us?” Bucky said, scrunching up his face and shrugging, “Doesn’t give a shit.”

“That kinda makes a little bit of sense,” Steve said so naturally, so calmly, Sam didn’t anticipate that Steve was going to add, “I mean, you are his fiancé after all.”

Bucky clamped his mouth shut and looked away. Steve just grinned. Sam stared at both of them and said, “You’re assholes. I hope you know that.”

“We’re just messing with you, man,” Bucky said, as the doors to the room opened to let another Avenger in.

Thor walked in backwards, pointing at someone with his hammer and telling them with a shrug, “Not worthy. Sorry.”

Steve was trying not to smile at Thor’s humble display, but didn’t quite manage it. The doors closed and Thor headed towards the bed with a cheery, “Son, of Wil. I am glad you are in one piece.”

“Thanks Thor,” Sam said. “Stop calling me that.”

Thor frowned, looking exceptionally childlike for a mighty Asgardian. “Forgive me, but James rebuked me for calling you Sam. He said you lacked humility and wished to be addressed in a more ostentatious manner.”

Sam looked at Bucky who had the temerity to look ashamed, and then back at Thor. “Sam is fine.”

Thor looked pleased. “I am glad we have moved forward then. Steven, you have spoken to the King?”

Steve nodded. “T’Challa asked that we stay put. He said it wouldn’t look good for Wakanda if the Avengers were too scared to stick around.”

“Yeah, not sure it would look good for the Avengers either,” Bucky said.

“Indeed. Not to mention, if something were to happen, the Avengers would be here to help-” Thor stopped when the sound of a phone notification floated up between them all. He rolled his eyes and pulled out a phone from somewhere within his armour and looked at it, before stuffing it back in. “As I was saying-”

“You have a phone?” Bucky asked. “Even Steve doesn’t have a phone.”

“I _have_ a phone,” Steve said, as Thor answered, “Tis a gift from Jane. She enjoys it when I send her images of mys-”

“Important?” Sam interrupted, nodding in the general direction of where Thor had deposited his phone.

Thor looked sullen. “It appears Loki has discovered my number. He has taken to using my phone as a conduit for his trickery.”

“Loki’s crank calling you?” Sam asked.

“I do not know what that means,” Thor said, idly tapping Mjolnir’s head. “But I will assume this is exactly what he is doing. I look forward to our next meeting when I will dismember him very slowly.”

The two large doors swung open, and this time two of the highest ranking female guard entered first, followed by T’Challa. Steve met him by the door, Thor at his side. They exchanged quiet words after which Steve nodded in Sam’s direction and left, Thor patting T’Challa on the shoulder and following behind.

"Hey, man," Bucky said with a lift of the chin as T'challa approached the bed.

"James," T'challa said with a nod, before going to Sam's side. He sat down on the edge of the bed, face soft with worry. "Sam. I am so sorry. This is entirely my fault."

Sam shook his head, shifting where he sat. T'Challa's strong hand appeared on Sam’s arm to help, his body radiating heat all the way out of his clothes. When Sam was settled, T'Challa sat back at a painfully respectable distance.

"Look, I'm okay, just a little winded," Sam said. “Been through worse. This is nothing.”

"He fell on his head, so he's not seriously hurt," Bucky supplied. T'Challa's grinned and looked back at Bucky with an arched brow.

Sam glared at Bucky until T'Challa turned back to look at Sam. Sam let out a fake laugh as T'Challa smiled, reaching out to squeeze Sam's shoulder. "I want you to rest. Stay here until I have more news."

"I'm fine. I'd rather be out there helping out than lying here being useless," Sam said.

T'Challa frowned. "You are not being useless. You are recovering, and that is of use to me. Also, I know from personal experience what it is to be landed on by James. You need time to heal."

Sam frowned, adding _that_ up, laughing only because T'Challa was grinning. Behind him, Bucky was smiling and nodding at Sam all too suggestively.

T'Challa got up, patting Sam on the shoulder and nodding to Bucky. "James."

"See you later, pal," Bucky said with a nod as the King of Wakanda strode out of the room, the large doors shutting behind him without anything as uncouth as a sound.

"Pal? Seriously? The dude's a king," Sam said.

"Well, you know, we were kind of roommates for a little while. It got pretty casual."

"You were a popsicle in his lab. That's the total opposite of casual," Sam said.

"Jealousy is not a pretty quality, Samuel," Bucky said as Sam watched him with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"What did he mean by having personal experience being _landed on_ by you?" Sam asked.

"What do you think it means?" Bucky asked.

"Not what you're pretending it means," Sam said.

"Then why are you asking?"

Sam glared. "I _hate_ you."

"No you don't. We're brothers from different mothers," Bucky said, hand reaching towards the sideboard for an apple in a bowl set down for Sam. He took a bite that was too big even for his mouth, crunching loudly and smiling in Sam's direction.

Sam snatched the apple away, which was petty, but damn it those were his get-well apples. He tilted his head in the direction of the door. “Got any idea what’s going on?”

Bucky’s expression shifted slightly, cautious and careful. The guy who tried to turn you into human confetti? He yelled out a name. N'Jadaka. That guy’s been out of the picture for a while. His style is direct challenge to the throne. Not offing some outsider while hiding in the shadows. I got a feeling this has nothing to do with him.”

“ _How_ do you know all that?” Sam found himself asking again.

"Post coital chit chat," Bucky said with a serious expression and nod. It was childish, but Sam felt incredibly satisfied kicking him off the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a WiP. This is not a continuation. It's just a thing I wrote while I was inbetween writing other things. Just so you know...

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a [Tumblr thing](http://dvswraatins.tumblr.com/post/145175050734/please-please-write-the-tchallsam-fic-where-they).


End file.
